


tell me no lies (and i'll try to forgive)

by KatsatheGraceling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Derek Angst, Derek whump, M/M, Medium Stiles, POV Derek Hale, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Stiles Stilinski, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsatheGraceling/pseuds/KatsatheGraceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura laughed, a bright and happy sound. “Derek, look,” she pointed to a large sign in a shop’s window that proudly proclaimed ‘Psychic Readings’. The siblings were walking around a small town just on the outskirts of New York, relaxing and trying to enjoy the day. </p>
<p>“We should get our fortunes told,” Laura said.</p>
<p>Derek huffed. “And let them scam us? No way.”</p>
<p>Laura pouted at him playfully, but they continued walking around the shops downtown.</p>
<p>It was only two years later that Laura was taken from him, too. Derek always wondered what the fortune teller would have said to them, if it would have made the least bit of difference. If she would still be alive.</p>
<p>He supposed that curiosity is what made him walk into “Claudia’s Clairvoyance and Medium Readings” years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me no lies (and i'll try to forgive)

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I here writing this instead of the story I need to be working on? Because I hate myself, apparently. I binged watched Tyler Henry videos on YouTube and this was born. My timelines don’t work (naturally) and everyone is a bit older than in the pilot. Enjoy.

Laura laughed, a bright and happy sound. “Derek, look,” she pointed to a large sign in a shop’s window that proudly proclaimed ‘Psychic Readings’. The siblings were walking around a small town just on the outskirts of New York, relaxing and trying to enjoy the day. The town had become their home for the past few weeks, and Derek could tell Laura was considering staying.

It had been three years since the fire, since Derek ruined everything and brought about his family’s death. Laura had stepped up, taking custody of Derek and moving them immediately out of the town that caused them both so much pain. They traveled all over the country, only stopping somewhere to sleep in the Camaro or wash the measly set of clothes they owned.

Derek could tell his older sister was itching for a place to settle down. This town was quiet and small, but not small enough to encourage gossip. There was a lot of wooded land within running distance. It was perfect for them.

“We should get our fortunes told,” Laura said, snapping Derek out of his thoughts.

Derek huffed. “And let them scam us? No way.”

Laura pouted at him playfully, but they continued walking around the shops downtown. Laura eventually brought up the topic of staying, to which Derek shrugged. He shouldn’t get a say anymore, shouldn’t be trusted. They rented out an a single apartment and moved in their few items. It felt like a fresh start.

It was only two years later that Laura was taken from him, too. Derek always wondered what the fortune teller would have said to them, if it would have made the least bit of difference. If she would still be alive.

* * *

Derek moved back to Beacon Hills immediately after Laura passed. There was nothing tying him to New York, and he owed it to Laura to make sure she got a proper burial. He left the apartment with everything in it but his wallet and keys. It was too painful to be around while Laura’s scent faded from her things.

Laura had made a short trip back to Beacon Hills, hearing the news of animal attacks in the area. Derek had argued with her for hours, trying to convince her that it was someone else’s problem, that they had made a home for themselves _here_ and there was no need to leave it.

Laura had looked at him with wet eyes, and softly told him that Beacon Hills was still their family’s territory, and it was their responsibility to defend it. That Mom would have wanted them to defend it. She asked him to come with her, just for a week, to see what was going on.

Derek, stubborn and hurt, refused. 

So Laura went alone, and now she was dead. 

Derek arrived in Beacon Hills only days after feeling Laura die. There was no rush of alpha power like what happened to Laura after their mother died. Derek was truly an omega. He wondered if the alpha power had just dissipated, if it would rather die out than go to Derek. He knew he didn’t deserve it.

Laura’s scent was still fresh in the preserve, no recent rain to wash it away. It was easy enough to track down her body, or what was left of it.

Derek admitted he still held hope. That maybe the alpha power didn’t go to him because Laura wasn’t really dead. But there was no denying it, seeing his sister bare on the forest floor, cleanly ripped in half. Her torso was nearest him, with her bottom half flung nearly 100 meters away.

A sob ripped out of him, and Derek gently cradled torso in his arms, trying to give her as much dignity as possible. There were no other scents on her, no hint as to who or what did this to her. A dead end.

Shaking, Derek smoothed the hair away from her face and gently closed her eyes. Going to the police meant explaining how he found her. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he’d be the first suspect. He would bury her next to the house, near where the rest of their family lay.

The sound of multiple boots made Derek’s neck snap up. He saw multiple flashlights waving in the distance, and a quick listen let him know the police were here. Searching for Laura.

Mind a blur, Derek scooped Laura’s top half and ran, eyes stinging with tears. There was no time to grab the rest of her; the police were too close. Derek couldn’t even bury his own sister right.

He gently set her down in the flowers they both planted near the old house for their family. Digging her grave was harder than anything he’d ever done, but Laura deserved it. He gently set her down in the hole he dug, and forced himself to look as he dumped dirt back over her body. 

His hands burned and blistered from weaving together strands of wolfsbane and placing them over her grave, ensuring no other supernatural creature would disturb her resting place. By the time he was finished, the morning sun was well into the sky, and Derek could do no more than crawl under the scorched porch and fall into a restless sleep.

He stayed there for days, only coming out to catch a rabbit or squirrel and drag it back to his hiding place. Laura would laugh for weeks if she could see him like this. The thought made his jaw clench around the onslaught of guilt and sadness.

The police eventually identified the half they found to be Laura Hale, and came searching around the old house. Derek heard them talking from his hiding spot, about how they couldn’t find the victim’s brother and the only other living relative was comatose in Beacon Hills’ hospital. About how it was suspicious that Derek abandoned his apartment in New York and he had to have something to hide.

About how they thought he murdered Laura.

He was too chicken to tell them he basically did.

A week passed and Derek eventually emerged from beneath the porch. He smelled like death—in more ways than one. He washed himself in the creek and changed into the spare clothes he stashed in Laura’s Camaro (he supposed it was his now). He was lucky the police hadn’t found it yet.

Frowning, he followed his nose to underneath the rear passenger’s seat. A beanie smelling strongly of Laura was tucked away, forgotten. Eyes stinging, Derek held it up to his nose and deeply inhaled, before tugging it on his head. 

He decided he would go into town to buy flowers to lay on his family’s grave markers. He wanted to have something a little more special than wildflowers in his hands when he told them he had gotten Laura killed.

With a beanie and a week’s worth of stubble, he would be near unrecognizable. He hadn’t stepped foot in this town in over five years; no one here knew him or to look for him. He had never felt more alone.

He remembered there being a flower shop downtown; his father would take him there occasionally so they could pick out an arrangement to take home to Derek’s mother. They would always get a single flower for each of Derek’s siblings. Laura would save all of hers and press them in a book. The book burned with the rest of the house.

Derek still remembered each sibling’s favorite flower.

He found the shop, looking more aged and worn than he remembered, but open all the same. Ms. Jacobs was still working behind the counter, albeit sitting now instead of standing. Derek doubted she would recognize him.

The aroma of flowers and soil hit him like a truck when he opened the door, and Derek took a moment to breathe deeply. He opened his eyes, turning to where he remembered the lilies to be (Cora’s favorite), only to see a giant sign hanging on the wall where the plants used to be.

“Claudia’s Clairvoyance and Medium Readings” the sign said in bold letters. An arrow pointed to the stairs at the back of the shop where he remembered Ms. Jacobs would keep her overstocked supplies. 

Derek’s jaw clenched. What kind of vulture offered psychic readings where grieving families came to buy flowers for lost loved ones? He glared at the sign, remembering Laura’s excitement all those years ago.

“Are you interested in a reading, sweetheart?” Ms. Jacobs asked.

“Does Claudia accept walk-ins?” Derek asked skeptically.

The old woman chuckled. “Oh no, not Claudia, dear. Stiles owns the shop upstairs.” She leaned in as if to whisper something. “He’s got quite the gift.”

“I’m sure he does,” Derek said drily. He glanced at the sign once more, the anger in his gut a warm ball. The flowers could wait; it’s not like he had anywhere else to be. “You know, I think I will get a reading.” He tried not to sound too sarcastic about it.

Ms. Jacobs grinned delightedly. “Well you just go right on up there, darling. I’m sure he’ll be happy to read you.”

_‘And take my money,’_ Derek thought. But he headed up the stairs, pausing when he crossed the threshold. 

The old upstairs storage had been converted into an open layout office space. Off to one side of the room was a lounge area, with a plush couch and a loveseat, while to the other side was a large office desk and two consultation chairs set up in front. It all looked rather homey—nothing like the crystal balls and beaded curtains he expected.

The floor creaked and a young man made his way into the lounge area from around the corner, jerking to a halt when he saw Derek. The boy’s eyes locked onto his, then widened almost comically. He fiddled with the cell in his hands, not taking his eyes off of Derek.

“I’m looking for Stiles?” Derek ground out.

The boy spread his arms, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’ve got him.”

Derek couldn’t keep in the snort of surprise. The boy—Stiles—barely looked legal, with his Bambi eyes and spotted face. He wore a flannel over a cartoon t-shirt, and his jeans were so tight Derek wondered how long it took to wrangle his legs into them.

Stiles eyes narrowed at the insult, his heartbeat speeding up and face flushing. “I own this business and rent the space out from Ms. Jacobs. Do you have a problem with that?”

Derek held up his hands mockingly. “Not at all. I’m actually here for a _reading._ ” Both of them could hear the air quotes he placed.

Instead of getting insulted, the anger dropped from Stiles face, instead replaced with a flustered surprise. “Oh, sure! Right.” He took two steps toward Derek before turning on his heel and flailing toward the couches. “Um, do you want to sit down?”

Derek eyed the couches warily, before striding over to the desk and sitting stiffly in one of the chairs. 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, then. There’s good, too.” He moved to sit behind the desk, hands fluttering over the mess of notebooks and pencils before awkwardly placing them in his lap. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it.

“So, how does this work?” Derek asked, frowning. He wondered what mumbo jumbo Stiles would try to pull. Maybe he would chant, or act possessed. Light some incense and call it a day.

Instead, Stiles shrugged. “It depends on what you want. My specialty is medium readings, but I could try to look into your future if you’re into that. Clairvoyance was kinda my mom’s thing, so I’m a bit spotty in that area.”

Derek raised a brow, noticing the past tense. “Your mom?”

Stiles nodded, a wistful smile on his face. “Claudia. I named the shop after her. Besides, _‘Claudia’s Clairvoyance’_ sounds better than _‘Stiles’ Psychic-ness’_ or something.”

Derek tried and failed to not be slightly charmed by the boy. It was still a scam, afterall. Scamming must run in the family. “Then I guess I’ll go for the medium reading.”

“Sure!” Stiles pulled out a lacrosse stick from under his desk, and pulled string from one of the drawers. He gripped the crosse shaft between his knees to hold it still.

Seeing Derek’s confused look, Stiles smiled bashfully. “I have to do something with my hands to distract myself. Some people type, or draw. I restring my crosse pocket.”

He put on quite the show, Derek thought. Stiles took a deep breath, face going slack as he weaved string in and out of the holes around the head. 

Stiles eyes slipped closed. “So there’s someone who immediately comes through. They...” Stiles fingers paused. “It’s a woman. She’s fairly young, and—quite honestly she’s demanding to be heard.”

Derek controlled his breathing, but couldn’t help as his fingers gripped the arm of the chair tighter. Stiles slanted open his eyes, most likely gauging Derek’s reaction. 

“She’s showing me the letter L,” Stiles frowned. “Lauren? Laura?—” he jerked slightly. “Yes, definitely a Laura.”

Derek could feel his nails itching to lengthen. 

Stiles continued. “She gives off a very protective vibe, but it’s not maternal. An older sibling?” Stiles sighed. “I feel like her death was recent. Very recent.”

The boy opened his eyes once more, quirking an eyebrow at Derek. “Most people give me feedback. Am I close?”

“How did you know that?” Derek snarled. His gums felt sore with the need to let his fangs drop.

“I’m a medium, Derek. That’s what you came for isn’t it?”

“You’re a fake,” Derek said weakly.

“I’m really not.” Stiles fingers continued to lace. “Laura is teasing you for coming to see me, but she’s glad you’re here. She wants…”

Stiles paused, frowning. “She wants to make sure you don’t blame yourself. She says you have a tendency to do that and she wants you to know there was nothing you could have done.”

Tears pricked Derek’s eyes.

“And—hmm,” Stiles trailed off. “There are more people here for you. Lots more. I feel like they’re all related. A family?” At Derek’s blank look, Stiles continued. “They’re here and there’s an overwhelming feeling of pride coming from all of them.”

Bitterly, Derek wanted to laugh. Of course Stiles had to be a fake now, if he was saying his family was proud of him. They wouldn’t be if they knew the truth.

“One woman in particular wants my attention. She wants to talk to you.” Stiles punctuated his sentence with tightly tying a knot. “I get a maternal feeling from her. The letter T?”

There was no way Stiles could know that. Did he recognize Derek? Derek’s family _was_ originally from Beacon Hills. Maybe Stiles was just playing him.

“Talia,” Derek supplied.

Stiles nodded. “Talia. She wants you to know...” Stiles frowned. “I don’t understand this part, but she’s adamant that you need to know. She wants you to know that she knew.”

Derek huffed. _That was specific._

“She’s showing me the letter K, and keeps repeating that she knew.”

Derek’s blood ran cold. 

“Kate?” Stiles asked, then nodded to himself. “She wants me to tell you she knew about Kate.” Stiles opened his eyes. “Do you know a Kate?”

At the sight of Derek’s pale face, Stiles took his silence as a yes. “How?” Derek croaked out.

Stiles eyelids fluttered, and he smiled slightly and said, “She says she’s your mother, DerBear, how could she not know? You weren’t very subtle as a teenager.”

Derek flinched so hard at the sound of his old nickname he cracked the arm of the chair. His world was spinning around him. His mother knew? She knew he was seeing Kate behind her back?

“She doesn’t blame you. None of them do.”

Derek shook his head, his throat tight. “But it was my fault.”

“Laura wants me to smack the back of your head for that.”

“Don’t.” Derek stood, anger pulsing through him. “Don’t talk about them like you knew them. You couldn’t know that— _how do you know that?”_ he shouted.

The shop door downstairs banged open, but Derek paid it no mind.

Stiles stood, holding his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. “Calm down, Derek. Think about it. Is it really so hard to believe I exist in the same world where werewolves do?”

Derek gave a whole body flinch, and remained frozen as a set of footsteps pounded up the stairs. Numbly, he felt his hands being pulled behind his back.

“Derek Hale, you’re under arr—”

“Dad, wait!” Stiles shouted, rounding the desk. “No, don’t!”

The officer behind him paused. Stiles’ father, Derek realized. “Stiles, what? I got your SOS text.” Derek wondered if that’s what Stiles was doing on his phone when Derek first walked in.

“He didn’t do it. Any of it. Derek’s innocent, I swear.” Stiles made a little ‘x’ over his heart.

The man behind him heaved out a giant sigh. Derek knew the feeling. “Stiles, son, you’re going to put your old man into an early grave.” But he did let Derek’s wrists go and took a step back.

“And then Parrish will become Sheriff and you’ll haunt me for the rest of my days, I know.” Stiles acted like it was an old argument.

Derek finally broke out of his stupor. He turned, surprised to find he recognised the man behind him. “Deputy Stilinski,” he said.

Stilinski’s eyes softened. The last time Derek had seen those eyes was when the man was breaking the news that there was a fire. “It’s Sheriff now, Derek. You’re a hard man to find.”

Derek flinched slightly, eyes falling to the floor in shame.

The Sheriff sighed. “You didn’t kill Laura, did you, son?”

Derek shook his head, jaw clenching. He was surprised to feel a hand fall on his shoulder, and looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski smiling gently at him. “I believe you. We’ll get this sorted out.”

Derek looked toward Stiles. _Stiles Stilinski,_ it clicked. He remembered the boy, only a few years below him. He remembered hearing rumors in school about how the boy claimed he could still hear his mother after she died.

Holy shit. He wasn’t faking it.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked. Derek’s head finally felt clear for the first time since the fire. His anger was slipping away.

Stiles seemed surprised at first, but his face quickly lit up. “It’s on the house!” he chirped, smiling widely. “Although,” he bit his lip, and shyly stepped toward Derek. “If you’re feeling generous I _do_ accept donations in the form of dates.”

Derek blinked in surprise while the Sheriff guffawed. Stiles lip was still caught between his teeth, making Derek’s mind go blank.

Eventually, he gave Stiles a slow smile. “What does that clairvoyance of yours say?”

Stiles grinned. “That we’d be _fantastic_ together.”

And really, he wasn’t wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in like two sittings because it demanded to be written.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://katsa-the-graceling.tumblr.com/). Come rant about Sterek with me.
> 
> Comments give me life. ♥


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